


For Want of a Syllable

by misura



Category: Tales of the High Court - Megan Derr
Genre: M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12667008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: In which Sarrica almost but not quite undoes three weeks of trade negotiations.





	For Want of a Syllable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/gifts).



> note, since you mentioned listening to the audiobooks: in the dead tree ones, as in this ficlet, italics are used to indicate the use of other languages. thus, 'hello' would be someone saying 'hello' in Harken, whereas ' _hello_ ' would be someone saying 'hello' in, for example, Selemean or Pemfrost.

At long last, after what felt like weeks and weeks of tedious negotiations, the new trade agreement was a fact.

Allen felt exhausted and immensely grateful the matter was at an end - and he was all too aware that if _he_ had found the negotiations tedious, they must have been nearly unbearable for Sarrica, who hadn't even had the rare chance to practice his skills in several more obscure dialects of Outlander, thanks to the ambassador's choice of guards.

Of course, trade agreements were always tricky. Both parties had something the other wanted, yet both parties were also determined to get the better of one another. It wasn't as it was with, say, a peace treaty, where everyone involved at least agreed on the basics.

_They knew we wanted what they had to offer, just like we knew they wanted what we had to offer._ True, there were other places where the Harken Empire might buy its spices, gems and cloth, just like there were other places where those things might be sold.

_Thus, many long days of people trying to get the better of one another._ When even Tara's energy had begun to flag, Allen had known it was time to end things - and if some small concessions had to be made, so be it. Better to let the ambassador return feeling grateful and happy that he'd come out ahead, than resentful and unhappy over having been forced into concessions he hadn't wanted to make. _And better to let Rene drag off Tara for a relaxing afternoon._

Allen allowed himself a smile, knowing the ambassador would interpret it as a response to his lengthy farewell speech, made even lengthier by the need to pause every once in a while for the silver tongues to catch up with their translations.

Sure enough, the ambassador smiled back, looking pleased, before delivering one final compliment.

Sarrica rose, his own speech considerably shorter. Allen had helped him work out the language, to make sure some last-minute insult would not undo all of the hard work of the past month.

" - and once more, we would like to _thank you for the goats_ ," said Sarrica.

Allen blinked, then scolded himself for displaying even that much of a reaction. He couldn't see the ambassador's face - the man had timed his final bow well.

Of that much, at least, Allen's mother would have approved.

 

"Three weeks!" Lesto said. "Three weeks! And you come this close to fucking it up at the last minute!"

"Nothing happened," said Sarrica.

"Oh, something happened, all right! We just got lucky. This time."

Allen coughed. "It's my fault, really."

"No, it's not," said Sarrica, at the same time Lesto shook his head. "I knew I had no talent for languages, and I made a mistake."

"It's a tricky language," Allen acknowledged. "Placing the emphasis on the wrong syllable can change the meaning of a word completely - plus, of course, there's the subtle differences between verb tenses to indicate whether or not something is more or less likely to happen in the future, and whether or not something is a unique event rather than one that might be expected to repeat itself."

Lesto scoffed. "How hard can it be to say 'thanks for the gifts, now go away'?" Allen opened his mouth. "No, don't answer that. Just - "

"Your continued low opinion of me has been noted," said Sarrica. "Was there anything else? I'm a busy man, Lesto."

"Busy screwing up, sure," Lesto said. "I'm warning you, with these negotiations over and done with, I'll be expecting you to start catching up on all that paperwork you haven't been dealing with."

"Or else you'll kill me?" Sarrica sighed. "That threat's really getting a bit old, Lesto."

Lesto glared at him.

"I'll make sure the most urgent paperwork gets dealt with," said Allen. "Could you find Rene and Tara, and tell them I'd like to see them tomorrow morning?"

"Sure."

//

Sarrica sighed. He knew he'd screwed up - Pantheon knew he'd screwed up.

_What's that saying again? 'You can't teach an old dog new tricks'?_ But Allen always sounded so enthusiastic and passionate when he talked about languages - and so, when he'd offered to tutor Sarrica, Sarrica had happily agreed, thinking it would give them an excuse to spend more time together.

Not that the High King needed an excuse to be spending time with his Consort, in theory, at least.

In practice, for a man who'd been badgering Sarrica to pay more attention to Allen when Allen had only recently come to court, Lesto now seemed determined to ensure Sarrica spent as little time enjoying Allen's company as possible.

_Always another report, another piece of paper to sign._

Sarrica had fought long and hard to bring peace to the Harken Empire. Now that he had finally accomplished his goal, it seemed his reward was to be forever buried in paperwork.

He'd have almost preferred another war.

Allen dealt with his fair share of paperwork, too, of course - or more than his fair share, Sarrica sometimes suspected, even when Allen swore their workloads were divided equally, as they should be. Without Allen around to help, Sarrica suspected he might by now have been begging Lesto to put his money where his mouth was and kill him, as death would be preferable to doing more paperwork.

_Lucky for me, I do have Allen by my side. My golden tongue._

In public, Allen still rarely showed his feelings. After an afternoon spent in the company of Allen's formidable mother, Sarrica had found himself grateful for the fact that in private, at least, Allen seemed comfortable enough expressing his feelings, whether they were good or bad.

Sarrica's temper still flared any time he saw or felt the scars on Allen's back. Allen's parents might be welcome at court; the men who had done this to their own brother, never would be.

It had been hard enough not demanding an explanation for his parents' ignorance.

_Still, when it comes to being oblivious, I'm hardly in any position to throw stones._

Unlike Allen's family, though, Sarrica had every intention of making up for his earlier mistakes in full.

_And if that means I, too, get to enjoy myself - well, that's just a happy coincidence, isn't it?_

 

"For a man who almost cost us a valuable treaty, you look rather happy," said Allen.

He was gorgeously dressed, as always. Sarrica had by now familiarized himself in full with Allen's wardrobe - mostly so that he'd know where all the buttons were that needed to be undone in order to get Allen the way Sarrica wanted him.

"I'd say the key word in that sentence is 'almost', wouldn't you?" Sarrica replied. "And you did promise me a reward if we finalized the treaty." Some afternoons and evenings, that promise had been the only thing to keep him going.

_Forget Lesto and those threats of his we both know he's never going to carry out. It seems all it takes to motivate me is Allen, wearing lace underwear._

_Or rather: the prospect of Allen, wearing lace underwear._

Sarrica wondered if Allen was wearing it already. If, the moment he got those clothes off of Allen, he'd see it. Allen _had_ known the treaty would be signed today, after all.

Maybe all that time he'd been sitting next to Sarrica, smiling and uttering polite phrases and nodding at people, Allen had been thinking of this moment, of when the two of them would be alone at last, with no more treaty or ambassadors with bizarre food allergies to worry about.

"Oh, I don't know," Allen said, sounding casual and airy. "Do you really feel you deserve a reward?"

Sarrica narrowed his eyes. With any other man, he'd have been able to tell whether or not he was being teased and toyed with, but with Allen, it was always difficult to tell.

Nevertheless, he said, "I do," trying to sound like he meant it.

" _Gifts_ ," Allen said. "A quite different word from _goats_ , wouldn't you say?"

If he was honest, Sarrica had to admit that he barely heard a difference. "I suppose."

"Just like _siket_ is a quite different word from _soukit_ ," said Allen.

"I don't know what either of those words mean. Or even which language they are."

Allen grinned at him. "One of them's something you want. The other, probably not. Pick one."

Even odds, to get what he wanted? "No." They were also even odds to _not_ get what he wanted, and Sarrica hadn't suffered through all these days of endless talking only to give up now.

Allen sighed. Sarrica liked to think there was a hint of disappointment to his expression. After all, it wasn't only Sarrica who had been too busy to think of anything but sleep when he finally saw his bed at night.

Lace or no lace, Sarrica was determined that tonight, at least, that would be different.

"Why don't you let me apologize properly for disappointing my tutor?" he asked.

"An apology?" There was a definite flush to Allen's cheeks now. Sarrica tried not to look too smug. "What kind of apology did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I hardly think that is for me to say," said Sarrica. He liked being in charge, holding Allen down and making him beg for _more, harder_ \- but letting Allen set the pace would be fun, too. "What kind of apology do you think would make up for my mistake?"

Allen licked his lips. Sarrica barely managed to stay where he was and wait for Allen to make up his mind. Allen wasn't just talented with his mouth when it came to languages.

"Well, since you asked - " Allen said, interrupted by the sound of someone banging on the door.

_Pantheon take them._ "Who wants to die?" Sarrica yelled.

Not that it was all that hard to guess. Few people would dare disturb the High King and his Consort, and two of those people ought to have better things to do than come and ruin a promising evening.

"Oh good, you're both still dressed," Lesto said, coming in as Allen opened the door, his face as impassive as if he and Sarrica had only been discussing the weather. "Something you should see. And probably deal with, given that it's your own fucking fault it happened in the first place."

Sarrica closed his eyes and imagined slowly strangling Lesto to death. "What?"

Lesto smirked.

 

Allen didn't actually burst out laughing when he saw, but Sarrica could tell he wanted to.

"The ambassador apologizes for the poor quality of his gift," one of the ambassador's silver tongues said, bowing, as he spotted the three of them. "Until very recently, he was sadly unaware of Your Majesty's wishes in this regard. Nevertheless, he hopes to have pleased you."

"He found these on a day when there was no market," said Allen, speaking at a low volume, so that only Sarrica might overhear. "Either he got lucky, or he has some very good local contacts."

"Great," Sarrica whispered back. "We'll worry about that later. Right now, what do I say?"

Allen's eyes twinkled. " _Thank you for the goats._ Obviously."

Sarrica groaned. No doubt about it now: Lesto was going to tease him about this forever.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [For Want of a Syllable by misura [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688031) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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